Recca Potter and the Philosopher's Stone
by Aleh
Summary: Originally an omake to Appreciation: Some people should not be in some positions. When Hakaishin Recca woke up in Harry Potter's shoes, he promptly went about proving this.
1. Chapter 1

--

Recca Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Chapter One

An Appreciation Sequel/Omake

By Aleh

--

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the series used or referenced in this fiction.

--

Perhaps it had something to do with living in a highly-trapped bedroom, but Recca Potter had always been agile for his age. Recca had an average face, a medium build, green hair, and bright red eyes. He wore frameless glasses held together with a drill mount that his relatives constantly tried to ignore because of all of the times that he summoned replacements from parallel universes. The only thing that Recca really liked about his appearance was the fact that it constantly gave his so-called family fits, especially when he asked his Aunt Petunia why he looked like that.

"Because you're a freak," she would say, before Recca had... educated her... about the disadvantages of racism.

Don't make racist statements -- that was the first rule for an existent life around Recca.

About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over his newspaper and shouted that Recca needed a haircut. Vernon must have had more hospitalizations in his medical history than the rest of his cohort group combined, but it made no difference; he wouldn't learn to leave Recca -- or Recca's hair -- alone.

The Dursleys often spoke about Recca like he wasn't there... usually because he wasn't. As soon as he got the chance, he left the house to do what the Dursleys derisively called "Freaky Things". Recca didn't mind, because... well, even he had to admit that most people would consider his methods of winning street tournaments to be a bit strange, but they _worked_ and that's all that his pocketbook cared about, the odd looks he won after he thumped the street-thug of the week over the head with a black pudding aside.

Every so often, however, Recca wouldn't have a black pudding available. Those days, he'd win by redirecting his opponent's momentum with a loud shout of "Head to the Boot!" It was surprisingly effective.

One day, Recca, who couldn't believe the situation, was stuck sitting in the back of the Dursleys' car with Dudley and one of Dudley's more courageous friends, on the way to the zoo for the first time in his life. His aunt and uncle hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with him, but before they'd left, Uncle Vernon had taken Recca aside.

"I'm warning you," he had said, putting his large purple face right up close to Recca's, "I'm warning you right now, boy -- blow anything up, anything at all -- and you'll be..."

He had stopped at that point because he was too busy grabbing his crotch in an attempt to hold down the bruising.

"You should be sure I don't have a pudding on me when you try to threaten me," advised Recca. "Honestly..."

But Uncle Vernon didn't listen to him. He never did.

The problem was, things tended to blow up around Recca and it was no good telling the Dursleys that they deserved to.

Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Recca coming back from the barber's looking like he hadn't been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald. Dudley had laughed himself silly at Recca, but stopped when a loud crashing sound from his room warned him that his entire collection of toys had exploded. The next morning, Recca's hair had looked exactly like it did before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off.

Another time, a group of school bullies had been chasing Recca when, as much to Recca's surprise as anyone else's, they were crushed to death by a falling aircraft carrier. The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from the American government about the missiles Recca had stolen from the wreckage.

While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain about things: people at work, Recca, the council, Recca, the bank, and Recca's collection of HE were just a few of his favorite subjects. This morning, it was motorcycles.

"... roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," he said, as a motorcycle overtook them.

"I had a dream about a motorcycle," said Recca, remembering it fondly. "It blew up."

"MOTORCYCLES DON'T BLOW UP!"

"Of course they do," said Recca. "You just have to pack the fuel tank with C-4."

After arriving at the zoo, Recca had the best morning he'd had in a long time. He was careful to stay away from the zookeepers so that they wouldn't panic while he played with the lions, but the various guests ran and got them anyway. Regardless, Recca made several new friends and the zookeepers extended an invitation for him to come back whenever he wanted after the lions started letting him rub their bellies.

After lunch Recca went to the reptile house. Dudley had apparently been fascinated by a black mamba that was fast asleep until he knocked on the glass.

The snake suddenly opened its eyes and slowly turned to look at Dudley.

"Want me to take down the barrier so you can bite him?" Recca asked.

The snake nodded vigorously.

"Cool. Now where did I put that thermite..."

The snake rapidly started to look less enthusiastic about getting through the glass. "On second thought," it protested after a moment, "I'd rather just say here where it's safe."

"Oh. I'll stop by every now and then in case you change your mind."

After they got home, Aunt Petunia ran off to get Uncle Vernon a large brandy. Recca didn't blame him for needing it.

Recca lay in his dark bedroom much later, unable to sleep. He'd lived with the Dursleys for nearly ten years, even since he'd been a baby and his current incarnation's parents had been murdered by that snake-freak. He could remember being born to a pair of magic-users after a drunken binge had lead him to do something that was probably rather stupid, although he couldn't remember exactly what. Sometimes, when he strained his memory, he came up with a strange image involving the shinigami's sword, the ginzuishou, and a bizarre seal array. It was for the best, he supposed, that he couldn't remember exactly what he had done. He'd probably have to bang his head against the wall for several hours otherwise.


	2. Chapter 2

--

Recca Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Chapter Two

An Appreciation Omake

By Aleh

--

Disclaimer: I own none of the series used or referenced in this... although Recca is my own character.

--

As summer came Recca was glad school was over, but there was no escaping the boredom that seemed to haunt his days. That was why Recca spent as much time as possible out of his so-called family's house, pulling pranks on various racist groups and generally stirring up chaos. Admittedly, the government tended to regard his "pranks" as otherwise, but who knew that the IRA would be _that_ ungrateful when he sent him some missiles as present?

Okay, sure, he'd sent them warhead-first, but still...

There was a horrible smell one morning when Recca went to the kitchen for breakfast. Seeing that Aunt Petunia was dying some clothes grey, Recca had to wonder what the Hell she was smoking and where he could get some.

"What's this?" he asked Aunt Petunia.

"Your new school uniform," she said.

Recca seriously doubted that, but was interrupted by the sound of the mail arriving before he could retort. When Aunt Petunia cheerfully brought the mail to the table Recca noticed that three things had arrived: a postcard from Aunt Marge, who was "vacationing" in Iran, a bill, and a letter for Recca.

The letter was... odd, written on _parchment_, of all things, and bearing an actual _wax_ seal.

Uncle Vernon practically pounced on the postcard.

"Marge's ill," he related to the family while glaring at Recca. "Prison food apparently doesn't agree with her."

"She shouldn't have called my mother a whore," Recca replied. "I warned her about that."

Of course, it was her comment about breeding that really did her in; the insult alone would only have earned her a bratwurst to the neck.

When Vernon moved to pounce on Recca, he promptly doubled over thanks to a banger to the chest.

"Anyway," Recca stated, changing the subject, "I wonder what's in that letter."

As Aunt Petunia moved to hand it to Recca Vernon seemed to get a second wind. "No!" he shouted. "Haven't I told you he's not going? He's going to Stonewall High and..."

Uncle Vernon trailed off as he saw the expression on his wife's face. Recca had seen that look before, most recently when he had taken care of the insect problem in her prized flower bed. Perhaps he shouldn't have used trinitrotoluene as a pesticide, but it had _worked_, damnit!

As Aunt Petunia slowly approached Uncle Vernon, her left eyebrow twitching dangerously, she began her own, considerably softer, tirade. "Have you lost your bloody marbles, Vernon?" she asked. "Don't you see? This is our _chance_! If he goes he'll be _their_ problem! We'll be _free_! I'll be able to make toad-in-the-hole again without worrying about... that! I can garden without having my daisies turn into a blast crater! No more calls from the bobbies about how our nephew put sarin in the IRA's torches... no more calls from the school about how he's flattened the neighbors' children... and no more cows... no more _cows_, Vernon!"

Smiling brightly, Uncle Vernon promptly handed the letter to Recca. "Right," he stated. "Enjoy your new school."

Recca just grinned as he started reading.


	3. Chapter 3

--

Recca Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Chapter Three

An Appreciation Omake

By Aleh

--

Disclaimer: I own none of the series used or referenced in this... although Recca is my own character.

--

The calm in the Dursley household only lasted as long as it took for Recca to read his letter. While the letter ended with "we await your owl," none of the Dursleys understood what it meant. While Recca supposed that the people who ran Hogwarts used a system of trained delivery owls... that didn't help Recca deliver his response since he didn't have one.

"Don't worry," Recca assured his "family" before they could begin to panic, "I'll just ask Mothra-chan to deliver my letter."

None of the Dursleys asked who Mothra was. They knew better.

The next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed positively giddy at the thought of being rid of Recca, went and got it himself. Recca heard him banging his way down the hall with all the grace of a walrus before he made a strangled cry. Then he shouted, "There's another one! 'Mr. R. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom --'"

"Maybe they sent it before they got my reply," Recca commented. Unfortunately, the next morning brought _three_ letters, each one identical to the first.

"This is getting ridiculous," Recca stated as he incinerated them with a bit of magatama. "Who do they think they are, Robert Soloway?"

When Uncle Vernon nailed up the mail slot, Recca didn't object. He just grinned and hoped that the idiots from the magic school would stop hitting the magic dust and read his reply letter.

On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for Recca. Because they couldn't go through the mail slot, they had been shoved under the door, slotted through the sides... and even forced through the window in Recca's bedroom. Uncle Vernon got out a hammer and nails and started boarding up the cracks around the doors while humming "Tiptoe Through the Tulips."

Recca, however, took a more pragmatic approach and decided that enough was enough. He walked to the telephone and pushed one of the buttons on the speed-dial.

"Law firm of Dewey, Hurtem, and Howe," came the answer, "this is Buster Hurtem speaking."

"Hiya, Buster. This is Recca Potter."

"Oh, God. What did you blow up this time?"

"Nothing. I've got some Vardan Kushnir wannabes harassing my family."

After the inevitable explanation and exposition, Mr. Hurtem started working on the necessary paperwork for his latest lawsuit.

On Saturday, things began to get even more ridiculous. No less than twenty-four letters arrived, rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs that the milkman handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window.

Recca promptly incinerated all of them. "Alright," he stated, "this means _war_."

Stomping over to the telephone, Recca promptly used another of the buttons on the speed-dial to make a call.

"Hello," the voice on the other end answered in Japanese, "you have reached the Tokyo offices of the Rent-a-Zilla Corporation. How might I direct your call?"

On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy.

"No most on Sundays," he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, "No damn letters today --"

Something came flying down the chimney and caught him on the back of the head. A moment later, thirty-seven more letters came flying out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys hid under the table out of long habit, but Recca simply blasted them with a series of fireballs.

"Out! Out!"

Uncle Vernon moved to seize Recca, only to get thrown out the door and into the hall. While Recca covered their escape, Aunt Petunia and Dudley followed him before Recca slammed the door shut behind them. As they caught their breath, they could hear the letters still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor.

"That does it," said Uncle Vernon. "I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!"

Recca decided to humor him; he was entitled to a nervous breakdown at this point. He just pulled out a cellular telephone and made a call.

"Hello, John? This is Recca... yes, yes, I know... look, I've run into a bit of a situation... no, nothing's blown up... yes, of course... no, not like that... no, I'm just having to deal with some Leo Kuvayev wannabes... look, I promised delivery and I always keep my word. It'll be there; it just looks like I'll be delayed unless you can find a way to keep these idiots from literally flooding my house with letters... no, they've been dumping them through the chimney and shoving them through the windows, too... yes, yes, I know it's important... say hello to Norma for me... thanks. I'll talk to you later... okay... bye."

After hanging up, Recca turned to Aunt Petunia. "Mr. Major says 'hello,'" he explained before pocketing the phone.

Aunt Petunia's face had turned white as she listened to the conversation.

"Look," Recca explained as he turned to her, "I don't like you or your family, but you're the victims here. Those morons' actions are hardly your responsibility. Besides... I might not mind killing people, but mail SPAM? That's just cruel."


	4. Chapter 4

Since some of you seem to be wondering what's going on, Recca Potter starts a while after the events of Appreciation. Hakaishin Recca got stone drunk, did something rather... rash... and woke up as the infant son of James and Lily Potter.

--

Recca Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Chapter Four

An Appreciation Omake/Sequel

By Aleh

--

As the onslaught of SPAM continued, Uncle Vernon grew increasingly unstable. Gathering his family and reluctant hanger-on, he wrenched his way through the boarded-up doors and drove off. Shaking his head at Uncle Vernon's ridiculously amateurish attempts to throw off pursuit, Recca passed the time by sketching new designs for small (and not-so-small) arms on a drafting pad.

By the time they'd stopped at a run-down hotel on the outskirts of Cokeworth, Recca had developed concept sketches for no less than three new sidearms, two new automatic weapons, a fighter plane, and twenty-six new types of nuclear warheads. Recca figured that he could get production on the sidearms started within a few months; he expected the R&D cycle on the fighter would take considerably longer.

They ate stale cornflakes and tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast the next day. As they were finishing, the owner of the hotel approached the table, holding a letter. " 'Scuse me, but is one of you Mr. R. Potter?"

"Yes. Could you call Scotland Yard about those letters? Whoever's sending them is in a lot of trouble."

Uncle Vernon spent most of the day trying to find the most hidden, out-of-the-way place he could, his amateurish efforts causing Recca no end of annoyance. By the time he'd parked at the coast, locked the rest of his hangers-on in the car, and gone off somewhere while humming "Living in the Sunlight," even Dudley had began to question his sanity. "Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" the obese boy asked his mother as it started to rain.

"Nah," Recca corrected. "He's just incompetent. He's trying to find a hole to hide in to escape the SPAM. While I can't blame him, he's taking the wrong approach."

Dudley turned to his cousin, recognizing the tone of voice Recca was using. "What do you mean?"

"He's looking for someplace that's naturally hard to get to... which is pretty tricky in a car. If he'd asked me, I'd have referred him to some Ghurkhas I know. Between a few squadrons of infantry and whatever traps we could think up... well, we'd be a lot better off than we would be in some rackety shack out on an island or something."

Dudley sniveled. "We could be inside, watching the telly?"

"And far more protected from the idiots SPAMming us," Recca added.

Dudley whimpered. "There's a special on Overkill Incorporated's newest weapon system on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a telly."

Recca couldn't help wondering how Dudley would react if he knew just who owned Dudley's favorite weapons company. Oh, sure, Dudley was mostly obsessed with following the company because he liked watching the explosions, but that was a motive that Recca heartily approved of. The green-haired boy decided to throw Dudley a bone.

"Honestly, it's not exactly a weapons system this time, and the BBC special's information is rather out of date anyway."

Dudley blinked. "Oh? How do you know that?"

Unfortunately, their conversation was interrupted by Uncle Vernon's return. He arrived, cheerfully whistling and carrying a long, thin package. When Aunt Petunia asked what he'd bought, he simply ignored the question.

"Found the perfect place!" he said. "Come on! Everyone out!"

Uncle Vernon was pointing at a large rock off the coast with a miserable little shack perched on it. Recca was fairly certain that there wasn't a television in it; he couldn't remember a safehouse located anywhere near where they were.

"Storm forecast for tonight!" Uncle Vernon gleefully added, clapping his hands together. "And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his boat!"

A rather old man approached them and pointed at an old rowboat.

"I've already got us some rations," said Uncle Vernon, "so all aboard!"

Recca and Dudley shared a glance and promptly groaned.

The boat ride wasn't nearly as bad as parts of SEAL training, but that was hardly a comfort to Recca's family. After a period of time that was far longer than it should have been thanks to Uncle Vernon being thoroughly out of shape, they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon led the way to a broken-down shack while humming "Strawberry Tea".

The inside wasn't nearly as bad off as some places Recca had been, but that wasn't saying much, and Uncle Vernon's rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and four bananas. Vernon promptly demonstrated that he was incompetent at survival skills when he tried to start a fire with the empty chip bags. Recca sighed and conjured a ball of flame to provide some heat.

As night fell, the weather took a turn for the worse. As spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut, Recca shook his head and reinforced them with a doton jutsu.

"Recca?" Dudley asked after his parents had retired to the bed in the other room. "What were you saying about that special?"

"Oh, well, have you heard of an American project called the 'Strategic Defense Initiative'?"

Dudley nodded. "Isn't that the one where they use lasers to shoot down missiles?"

Recca chuckled. "Yeah, that's the one. The special was on Overkill's answer to the project. Instead of one-shot temporary satellites using bomb-pumped lasers, Overkill developed satellites designed to be placed in geosynchronous orbit which would target missiles based on data provided from the ground and attack them with capacitor-fed x-ray lasers."

In truth, Recca wasn't entirely satisfied with the design. The satellites were extremely accurate, true, but still had a rather substantial cycle time. Recca had told the military that he'd designed for a 95 chance to intercept two thousand ICBMs fired either in a cluster or from converging vectors... but that greater numbers of incoming missiles would drastically reduce the system's effectiveness.

Well... that and the system wasn't really designed to handle other types of missiles. The satellites could target cruise missiles and the like, but the system was primarily designed to shield against ICBMs. Even though he had managed to keep the price tag for the whole system under five hundred million American dollars, Recca couldn't see why the Americans were making such a big fuss over it.

Dudley tossed on the couch. "Recca, how do you know so much about this, anyway?"

Recca grinned and decided to tell a slightly understated version of the truth. "I'm on the design team."

The fat boy just stared, completely stunned by the revelation.


	5. Chapter 5

--

Recca Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Chapter Five

An Appreciation Omake

By Aleh

--

At the stroke of midnight, Recca was awoken by a polite knock on the door. Apparently Vernon had noticed the noise, because he came skidding into the room, brandishing a hunting rifle. Recca sighed at the sight and reached for the plasma pistol he kept in his pocket.

"Who's there?" Recca's obese uncle shouted. "I warn you -- I'm armed!"

There was a pause. Then someone on the other side spoke up. "Vernon Dursley, I presume?" a voice which Recca quickly recognized asked in a somewhat amused tone. "I'm Captain Johnson, from Her Majesty's Special Air Service. I've brought someone who wants to talk to your nephew."

Recca grinned.

"Well," Vernon grudgingly replied, "come on in, then."

"Much obliged," Captain Johnson answered before opening the door and stepping in.

Captain Johnson wasn't a very tall or overly heavyset man, but he managed to be intimidating anyway. Part of it was the standard SAS combat armor. Part of it was the heavy assault rifle he carried as if it was a part of his body. Mostly, however, it was just his posture and bearing, both of which seemed to scream, "Do Not Mess With Me."

Recca wasn't afraid in the least. "Hiya, Captain Freudbait!" he greeted. "Haven't made Major yet, have you?"

"And put up with your jokes? You're bad enough as is!"

Recca shook his head in mock sorrow. "You should blame your family. I mean come on -- 'Richard William Johnson'?"

The SAS captain chuckled. "Perhaps, but it's better than my father's."

"Recca," Dudley suddenly asked, "what's going on?"

Recca smiled. "I'm just catching up with an old friend. Dudley, this is Captain Richard William Johnson. It might just be a coincidence, but his father's named Phallus and his mother's named Sappha." Recca shrugged. "You shouldn't have too much trouble figuring out where my nickname for him comes from -- I think his family's compensating for something."

"Ah, yes," the man who Recca had nicknamed Captain Freudbait embarrassedly interjected, hurriedly changing the topic before Recca could start on his brothers, sisters, and assorted other relatives. "I wanted you to know that the letters should stop. Our platoon... discussed... matters with the headmaster of that school and we've brought him here to talk to... explain things."

Recca raised an eyebrow. "You didn't just shoot him?"

The SAS officer seemed suddenly embarrassed at that. "Well, we _almost_ did... some kid stopped us, though."

Recca blinked. "Some kid?"

"Yes," Captain Johnson replied before fishing a letter out from his armor. "He wanted us to give this to you."

Frowning, Recca opened the letter only to stop, totally stunned at its contents. The message was clearly written out in plain Japanese: "I'm looking forward to seeing you on the train to Hogwarts."

What really made Recca come to a decision, however, was the signature. While no family name was given, the given name left no doubt in just who had written it.

The letter was signed, "Minato."

"Right," Recca commented. "Lead him in. I have some... questions... for the idiot."

The son of Phallus Johnson nodded and pressed a button on his radio. A few short words later, his men were escorting a man in at gunpoint. Recca supposed that the man would have made a credible candidate for Gandalf at the casting calls were Hollywood ever to do a Lord of the Rings movie, but rather doubted that those idiots could ever do Tolkien justice. Recca's opinion of Hollywood adaptations was rather low -- he figured that they'd probably add homicidal robots if they ever did an adaptation of Asimov's robot stories or cast Matt Daemon as David Webb were they ever to adapt the Jason Bourne books.

He wasn't entirely sure how they'd mess up Tolkien, but he was fully confident that they'd find a way. Besides, the whole "ancient wizard" effect was rather ruined by the orange prison clothes he was wearing.

"So," Recca began, looking into his bone-weary and somewhat shell-shocked blue eyes, "what the Hell made you think that it was alright to start imitating Shane Atkinson?"

The Dallben-lookalike raised his eyebrows in shock as Recca's words penetrated his daze. "Excuse me?"

"Shane Atkinson, of Christchurch, New Zealand. Responsible for sending out hundreds of thousands of electronic mails per day, on average, over a period of several years, flooding people's mailboxes with fraudulent advertisements for... various items, and causing substantial economic losses to a number of companies. Exposed by an article in the New Zealand Herald in August of 2003, he quickly found himself the recipient of substantial public outrage and promptly foreswore his activities... although he didn't stop."

"Umm, mate," one of the men holding a gun to the Merlin-esque man observed, "it's only 1991..."

"Thank you, Sargeant Obvious," Recca sincerely replied. "I tend to forget things like that from time to time..."

"No problem," Sargeant John Obvious told the man who had inadvertently helped him make millions on the stock market.

"Anyway," continued Recca, "do you have any _idea_ how much trouble you caused with those letters?"

A short discussion later, Recca was rubbing his forehead. "So let me get this straight," he remarked, his voice flat. "You idiots actually attacked Mothra-chan when she tried to deliver my letter. She pretty much ignored your attacks and continued until she got to her destination, but you intellect-challenged fools didn't even notice that she was trying to give you my letter." Recca paused for a moment before continuing, this time allowing his frustration to enter his tone. "Why the hell didn't you just ask her? It's not like Mothra-chan's mute... oh, wait! She probably _did_ try to explain, but you _morons_ didn't _listen_! Then, thinking that I hadn't gotten your letter -- despite having sent a response! -- you half-witted imbeciles decided to try a brute force approach and send more and more copies until one got through."

"That is about the size of it," the old man embarrassedly admitted.

"And in doing so," Recca explained, "you literally chased a family out of their house and home, forced me to devote a considerable effort to protecting my relatives, caused several days' delay to a _five hundred million dollar_ defense project, forced the Prime Minister to directly intervene, and endangered the lives of over a _billion_ people, of whom I'm fairly certain that at least _some_ are innocents!"

Sensing nothing but truth in Recca's words, the aged prisoner paled.

"What's more," Recca continued, letting a good bit of the sheer fury that he felt leak into his voice, "that was _my_ project, they were _my_ five hundred million dollars, and they were people who _I_ was responsible for protecting. Under almost _any_ circumstances, that would pretty much ruin your chances of getting me to go to your school at the very _least_."

Everyone in the room seemed startled by that, albeit for drastically different reasons.

"Recca," Captain Johnson began, trailing off, "you can't really..."

Recca shook his head. "Tell me, Bill," he asked, using the man's preferred nickname as the anger left his tone, "have you ever had a friend who was closer to you than a brother, someone who meant the world to you... someone who you would not only willingly but _gladly_ die for?"

Richard William Johnson nodded in understanding. So did every one of his men.

"So have I," stated Recca, "but I haven't seen him in far too many years. Considering where and when that was, I'd nearly given up hope of seeing him again. You asked me once why I'd started Overkill..."

The Dursleys, especially Dudley, started at that.

"As tribute to a friend," the captain nearly whispered.

"To protect people like him, to help them do their jobs, and to ensure that they didn't have to sacrifice themselves by charging off against a giant nine-tailed fox without the weapons to properly kill it," Recca finished the quote. "That and I like large explosions."

The old man stared.

"What?" Recca asked, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm an eleven-year-old boy."


	6. Chapter 6

This is my favorite chapter of Recca Potter to date. Enjoy.

And please review. I hate review-whoring like this, but... I need C&C -- badly.

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Recca Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Chapter Six

An Appreciation Omake

By Aleh

-----------

Later that morning, Recca and a rather large man who had been introduced to him as Rubeus Hagrid sat on a train. Sanitation and loyalty issues aside, Recca rather liked the man.

"Still got yer letter, Recca?" Hagrid asked as he knitted something that looked somewhat like a yellow tent.

Recca took the parchment envelope out of his dimensional pocket.

"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh need."

Recca unfolded the second piece of paper that detailed the required supplies and took a look at the notes he'd made in the margins.

"HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

"UNIFORM

"First-year students will require:

"1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)"

Recca had crossed out the "three" and replaced it with "twenty". He _knew_ he'd ruin a few.

"2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear"

Recca had frowned at that one and written a fairly simple comment: "Make sure the point is both sufficiently sharp and suitably poisoned."

"3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)"

Recca had also made an addition to that: "Bring a few extra pairs, just in case. Also, see about appropriate seal arrays."

"4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)"

Recca wasn't entirely sure how "winter cloak" and "black" were compatible -- a black cloak was for _nighttime_, not winter -- those were _white_. Of course, the wizards were probably stupid enough to actually think that he'd use something like that for _warmth_.

Given what he'd seen of the wizards' stupidity so far, he wouldn't be surprised if they actually did.

"Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags."

Recca thought that name tags were a sensible precaution... but certainly not _sufficient_. He made a mental note to buy a few dozen tracking devices, magnesium flares, and pounds of thermite for each article of clothing. Coupled with a few explosive tags, they should make a decent theft-deterrent.

The books weren't anything special, but Recca knew that he'd have to take a look around in the bookstore when they got there, and he'd be sure to get the other equipment, even if he'd be sure to bring _proper_ equipment as well. The pet, however...

"Hagrid, are you certain that only an owl, a cat, or a toad would be acceptable?"

"If yeh know wha' yeh wan', yeh can always ask," Hagrid answered, "but those're the ones mos' brin'."

Recca inwardly sighed. There was no way they'd allow him to bring Gojira. Not for the first time, however, he wished that Ami was with him. All of the fun he'd had in this universe that paralleled his own aside, Recca missed his friends and makeshift family. Not having them around would occasionally depress him, but he'd just work it off by blowing up Russian military bases.

"I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," Hagrid said as they climbed a broken-down escalator.

Recca shrugged. "Quite well, really," Recca replied. "You'd be amazed at some of the things they've come up with over the years."

"This is it," said Hagrid after a while, stopping, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

For a "famous place", it was certainly run-down. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid, however -- they waved and smiled at him. The bartender quickly reached for a glass, asking, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom. I'm on Hogwarts business," answered Hagrid, clapping Recca on the shoulder.

"Good Lord," commented the bartender, peering at Recca, "is this -- can this be-- ?"

After an obligatory round of introductions and general stupidity later, Hagrid led them to a small courtyard, which was nearly empty.

"Three up... two across..." Hagrid muttered.

"Why don't you just break the wall down?" Recca muttered under his breath as an archway formed in it. "Honestly, this whole hiding thing is just plain stupid."

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."

Recca was singularly unimpressed.

They stepped through the archway. The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons -- All Sizes -- Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver -- Self-Stirring -- Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.

"Yeah, you'll be needin' one," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get yer money first."

"I believe you misunderstand me," remarked Recca. "I was wondering how much shrapnel they'd produce if I stuffed them with C4..."

Recca wished he could effectively navigate while blindfolded. He couldn't help but notice the shops, the things outside them, and the people doing their shopping. They all offended his aesthetic sensibilities.

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eyelops Owl Emporium -- Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Recca idly wondered if they'd terribly mind if he bought the place out and turned it into a restaurant catering to Mau. He wouldn't even have to change the name.

Several boys of about Recca's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. From their conversation, Recca gathered that the broomsticks were enchanted to move and wondered why young boys were interested in such things... and what that said about these wizards' culture. He rather expected that the people interested in such things would be girls in a somewhat higher age bracket.

"Gringotts," said Hagrid after a while.

They had reached the first decent-sized building in the area. Made of snowy white marble, it seemed to tower over the other little shops. Given that it was only two stories tall, that said something... mostly about the architecture of the area. Standing beside its doors, wearing a red and gold uniform, was --

"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the steps. The goblin bowed as they walked through the outer bronze doors. Recca idly noted that they weren't the only set of doors to the banks, but wondered what the _hell_ the designers had been thinking when they made them out of _silver_ and _bronze_, of all things.

"Like I said, yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," Hagrid explained.

Recca just shook his head, mentally agreeing. Given what he'd seen of the security he'd seen so far, even an idiot would have trouble _trying_.

Eighty four goblins were sitting on stools behind a long counter, practicing various forms of dubious accounting, using such tools as _paper_ ledgers, and _brass scales_. They were even using magnifying glasses to inspect precious stones.

"Right," commented Recca as they were getting ready to leave after he'd sealed all of his parents' gold into a scroll. "Where do I go to close my account?"

"Might as well get yer uniform," commented Hagrid a bit later, nodding towards Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Recca, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts."

Recca didn't blame him. They were too damned rickety and moved far too slowly for his taste.

Madam Malkin was a short, smiling witch with, in Recca's opinion, a rather spectacularly bad fashion sense. Really -- mauve?

"Hogwarts, dear?" she said when Recca started to speak. "Got the lot here -- another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

"Hello," said the boy being fitted as Recca was stood on the stool next to him and started fitting him as well. "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yep!" Recca cheerfully remarked, looking forward to the train ride.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," the boy drawled, sounding bored. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Recca felt like throwing up.

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No," insisted Recca.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Recca insisted again, wondering how the Hell "Quidditch" became a euphemism for... _that_.

"I do -- Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," said Recca, not wanting to know what sort of inane... rituals... the local inbred idiots had thought up and wondering what happened to "Don't Ask, Don't Tell."

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been -- imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Is that where all of the heterosexual students go?"

A few minutes later, Recca had decided to make his extra robes himself -- there was no way in Hell he'd put up with that racist poof long enough to get fitted for all twenty.

Recca and Hagrid bought Recca's school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts. The shelves were stacked to the ceiling and the owner had obviously never heard of the concept of "organization", but Recca still managed to find a few extra books, walking away with such titles as "Burn, Baby, Burn!" by Pai Ro Teknus and "1001 Magical Explosives" by a Japanese author named Baku Hatsu.

Recca suspected that they were pseudonyms, but didn't care.

Hagrid almost stopped Recca from buying a solid gold cauldron, too ("But it's _fifty pounds_ of _solid gold_!"), although Recca flatly refused to buy the store's pathetic excuses for scales and telescopes. Then they visited the Apothecary, which had obviously never heard of "sanitation" or "contamination" -- although the latter was obviously not for lack of _it_ knowing _them_. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a set of basic potion ingredients for Recca, Recca himself spent time cataloging all the ways in which the ridiculously expensive substances they carried (although they were, admittedly, often rare enough to justify the expense) were improperly stored.

"Just Ollivanders left now -- only place for wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."

Recca frowned. "Umm," he asked, quite worried, "about these wands... they aren't used for... stretching certain parts, are they?"

Hagrid seemed quite confused by that. "Nah. Yeh use 'em fer spells."

Recca grinned, glad that the school didn't want him to get the... other... sort of "magic wand". Given the deal with the broomsticks, it _had_ seemed likely.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a small hovel, in Recca's opinion, nearly empty except for a single chair that Hagrid promptly sat on. Recca felt rather like blowing something up as he noted the thousands of narrow boxes that were piled right up to the ceiling.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice.

"Hello," replied Recca, turning to the voice's source, a rather old man with wide, pale eyes. "Tell me, do you know anyone named Hyuuga?"

The man, who Recca presumed to be Ollivander, given what he'd seen of wizard's creativity in naming their stores, was rather taken aback by that. "No...," he answered, although Recca caught a hint of... something... in his face. "Ah yes," he continued after a moment, obviously changing the subject. "I thought I'd be seeing you soon, Recca Potter." It wasn't a question. "Not many people have red eyes and green hair," he explained.

"Ah," Recca commented.

Then Ollivander seemed to notice Hagrid. "Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again... Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.

Recca was glad he'd had that conversation earlier and knew that it was a magic wand they were talking about and not a... err... "magic wand". On the other hand, now that the image had entered his head...

Recca winced.

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.

"Er -- yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though," he added brightly.

"But you don't use them?" said Mr. Ollivander sharply.

"Oh, no, sir," replied Hagrid.

"Hmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a _look_. "Well, now -- Mr. Potter. Let me see." He pulled out a long tape measure. "Which is your wand arm?"

"I'm ambidextrous, but I write with my left hand if that's what you're asking."

"Hold out your arm. That's it," continued Ollivander, seemingly oblivious to Recca's statement as he used the... device... to measure Recca at various places. "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful substance, Mr. Potter. Most use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons."

"Most?"

"No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Now Recca was _really_ glad he'd spoken to Hagrid before entering. The tape measure had started measuring on its own and had taken to measuring between Recca's nostrils while Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do," Ollivander said, causing the tape measure to drop to a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple. Just take it and give it a wave."

Recca took the wand, feeling a sudden warmth in his fingers. Feeling like an idiot, he waved it around a bit. The wand promptly blew up, leaving his hand untouched, but coating the side of the store with wooden shrapnel and bits of feather. Recca smiled, deciding that he'd enjoy this.

Ollivander was rather taken aback. "Yes... yes, I see..." His eyes settled on the copy of the Codex Exitium that Recca had purchased earlier and widened comically. "Perhaps..."

He ran to the back of the store and pulled out a rather dusty box. "Here. Eighteen inches. Wood of Yggdrasil with an anti-uranium core."

Recca took the wand, feeling the warmth from earlier come back, only much stronger. He raised the wand above his head and brought it swishing down, sending a stream of red and gold sparks shooting from the end like fireworks and streaming into the walls... which promptly fell over.

Recca grinned. "Tell me," he asked. "Do you have anything in anti-plutonium?"


	7. Chapter 7

A.N.: I can't believe that I forgot to upload this before... not to mention that nobody noticed! C'mon, people, when a story skips from Chapter Six to Chapter Eight, isn't it pretty obvious that one's missing?

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Recca Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Chapter Seven

An Appreciation Omake/Sequel

By Aleh

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It was late afternoon by the time that Recca and Hagrid left Diagon Alley. Recca didn't speak as they traveled through the now empty Leaky Cauldron and approached the road. Hagrid wanted to go through the Underground, but Recca stopped him, holding a hand in his way.

"We'll attract attention in the Underground... and I need to talk to an acquaintance of mine while we're here. Perhaps you would like to join me for supper?"

Hagrid seemed rather taken aback by that. "Are yeh sure?" he asked.

Recca smiled. "We were going to discuss my opinion of the wizarding world so far, Hagrid," Recca explained, "so you don't have to worry about keeping secrets. Besides, Beth might have questions that I don't have answers to."

It took some convincing, but Hagrid eventually accepted. One quick call on Recca's cellular telephone and less than a minute of waiting later, a rather nice car ("Designed it myself," Recca proudly told his companion.) pulled up and took them to a rather large house that Recca told a wide-eyed Hagrid was his acquaintance's summer villa.

While the groundskeeper of Recca's new school took a moment to stare at the estate, Recca rolled down his window and casually informed the guards of his identity and business. While they let him through, they refused to let the car in. Recca just shrugged it off, saying that a little walk never hurt anyone.

The guards didn't accept that, however, and called for a car to be sent down to pick them up. Recca shrugged that one off, too, and spent the ride up to the villa proper sketching out a design for an antimatter warhead.

Recca's acquaintance, a dignified old lady with a rather regal bearing who Recca introduced as "Beth", wasted no time in escorting the two of them to a small table in back where she'd set up some minor refreshments.

"So tell me, Recca. Did you perchance have the opportunity to confirm the rumors we spoke about?" Beth asked while taking a sip from her cup of tea.

Recca nodded, remembering the accusations of rampant Satanism among the magically inclined population of England. Recca didn't particularly care who people chose to worship -- as long as it wasn't him -- but had agreed to check on the rumors when Beth called in a favor. "Not much devil-worship," Recca answered, deciding that she didn't need to know that the majority of Wizarding society seemed to follow ancient pagan belief systems. "Much buggery, however."

"Oy!" Hagrid objected as a sweatdrop rolled down Recca's acquaintance's face. "What are yeh talkin' 'bout?"

Recca raised an eyebrow. "My hearing is quite good," he explained. "Quite a few people in the Alley were openly discussing the matter... and one of them openly propositioned me."

Hagrid's face turned a nice shade of puce as he considered Recca's words.

Amused by Hagrid's expression, Recca took a sip from his own cup. His eyes lighting up in pleasure, Recca allowed a genuine smile to pass through his normal control of his facial muscles. "Not bad at all," he remarked. "Fenghuang shuixian, if I'm not mistaken."

The old lady nodded in return. "Indeed," she agreed. "We remembered your recommendation and felt that it would be suitable for summer day such as this one."

Mentally noting that he should ensure that Christian Martinez and Serge Arnal were "encouraged" to take jobs in Australia, Recca nodded in appreciation and turned toward Hagrid. "By the way, most of those people in that pub seemed to know me. Would you happen to know why?"

Hagrid blinked. "You're famous," Hagrid observed. "'Course they knew yeh."

"Well, yes," Recca answered. "I'm pretty well known in a number of communities for a rather wide variety of things. I've just tried to keep it quiet for the most part."

Hagrid blinked again. "Yeh are?"

Recca and Beth shared a brief glance, turned towards Hagrid, and solemnly nodded in eerie synchronization.

After a moment of awkward silence, Hagrid realized that they weren't going to elaborate and began to hesitantly tell the tale of James, Lily, and Recca Potter. "... You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then -- an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing -- he tried to kill you, too. No one knows what happened then, but You-Know-Who vanished... alon' with 'bout half of Godric's Hollow... parts of Exeter... a good chunk of Mid and North Devon... an' most of Torridge."

Beth had started sweatdropping as Hagrid explained a mystery that had been bothering her for years. Recca, on the other hand, just shrugged as he put his vague memories of green light, a faint stinging sensation, and swatting at something with a half-assed magical attack into their proper historical context.

Hagrid found supper, when it came, to be quite tasty, although he remarked that it was lighter fare than he was used to. Recca interpreted that as meaning that he'd need to bring his own rice if he wanted to eat decently while he was at school.

The three of them spent the most of the remainder of their meeting's conversation on pleasantries and comparatively minor topics. They discussed Recca's various observations and insights into the insular society, what life was like for the average witch or wizard, and various anecdotes about life in the Wizarding world that Hagrid provided.

"By the way," Recca asked as they were about to leave, "about that bill..."

Beth gave a dignified nod. "There was very little resistance in Parliament," she answered. "Your name cleared what little there was."

"Oh, good," Recca responded. "That's a relief."

Recca's acquaintance seemed to be worried by that reaction, but they parted amicably and Recca soon found himself back in his car. "So, Hagrid," he asked, "should we drop you off anywhere in particular?"

Hagrid shook his head. "I have a portkey," he answered.

"I assume that a 'portkey' is some sort of teleportation device?"

"Telleywhassit?" Hagrid retorted, confused by the question.

After a few minutes of explaining the concept of teleportation (Recca got a laugh out of Hagrid's attempt to parrot the word -- "telleyperdation" indeed!), why a generic term was needed,("I know of at least fifteen ways to do it _without_ magic!"), and why the driver wouldn't notice anything odd if Hagrid teleported out ("I do it all the time!"), Hagrid finally seemed to understand. As soon as the car came to a stop, the heavyset man pulled out an old sock and vanished with a popping sound.

Recca just shook his head at the use of a _sock_, of all things, before asking his driver to take him back to the Underground.


	8. Chapter 8

Edit: I've inserted Chapter Seven where it should have been to begin with. Come on -- nobody noticed the gap? I had more content sitting on my hard drive and would have posted it long ago if I'd only realized...

Anyway, Chapter Nine should be coming along shortly...

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Recca Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Chapter Eight

An Appreciation Omake/Sequel

By Aleh

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Recca's last month with his relatives was fairly boring. Sure, Dudley kept pestering him for details about Overkill's latest weapons systems, and Uncle Vernon kept glaring at him, but the worst of the potential trouble had been avoided with a simple explanation.

"Look, Uncle Vernon," Recca had said to the puce-faced man, "I know you want to live a normal life for some reason. To be frank, I don't understand it... but I _do_ respect it. I'm not willing to change who I am and there are certain things that I'm not willing to tolerate but, whether you believe it or not, I've been doing my level best within those restrictions to let you live as normal a life as possible by shielding you from as much as my abnormality as I can."

As Recca saw things, this was the simple truth. Normal eleven-year-olds did not have multiple degrees from universities, run major international corporations, or have self-earned fortunes that placed them among the ten richest people in the world. The fact that Recca had several notable political figures on his cell phone's speed dial could also be viewed as quite abnormal.

Recca couldn't really see why his relatives wanted to avoid fame and a life of luxury so badly but was perfectly willing to oblige them.

On the other hand, Recca found that his schoolbooks were poorly-written pieces of trash. The history book didn't even reference primary sources, and the books on magic itself seemed to contain a mishmash of woefully impractical spells and wildly inaccurate theory.

The extra books he'd gotten at Flourish and Blotts, however, were far more interesting. Recca spent more than one night reading about spells to do things like turn an enemy's blood into nitroglycerin.

Recca woke up early on the day he was supposed to go to school. Putting on a fairly normal set of civilian clothing for camouflage, the former shinobi loaded his school trunk into his car and left a note for the Dursleys.

A last-minute detour to visit the daughter of an injured serviceman at the Great Ormond Street Hospital ate up a few hours of Recca's morning. Since the girl's father's knee had been shot out while he was wearing armor that Recca had designed, he figured that helping with their medical bills was the least he could do... and a few discreet medical ninjutsu did a great deal to help with the complications produced by chemotherapy-induced anemia.

"Still," one of the nurses remarked as Recca passed by on his way out, "it's a shame that Dr. Granger had to leave. The children loved her!"

"She'll be back," the resident she was talking to replied. "Mark my words. We can expect to see great things from that one."

Making a mental note to look into this "Dr. Granger" later, Recca cheerfully made his way to his car and spent the drive to King's Cross making last-minute arrangements.

Recca reached the station at around half past ten. Putting down a report on recent events on the Middle East and the suspected involvement of the assassin only known by the moniker of "Azrael", Recca rubbed the hand grenade he kept unsealed in his coat pocket for reassurance and stepped into the station and towards his destiny.

"Well," Recca remarked five minutes later, looking at his ticket, "here's platform nine and platform ten... nine and three quarters should be somewhere in the middle."

Recca sighed and focused his senses on the barrier, noticing an area with a distinctly different chakra flow. "Right," he muttered. "Bloody idiot wizards and their right bloody invisible doors." Moving to pick up his trunk, a sudden sound caught his attention.

"Nyan," a cat calmly declared from the top of his luggage, raising a paw and licking it in what strangely appeared to be a sensuous manner.

Recca smiled warmly at the inhuman creature, idly noting that it had two tails. "You want to go with me?" he asked.

"Nyan!" the bakeneko cheerfully agreed.

"I assume that my... understanding... with your kind is still in effect?"

The spirit-cat solemnly nodded its white, fur-covered head.

"Then of course you're welcome to join me! The letter said I could take a cat, after all!"

In response, the cat spirit simply jumped onto the green-haired boy's shoulder, gently nuzzled his cheek, and jumped back onto the school trunk.

"So," Recca asked, "what should I call you?" After pausing for a moment to think, Recca suddenly perked up. "Ah! How does 'Mike' sound?"

As the name, Mi-ke, or "three-furred" implied, the cat did have three colors of fur. While his head was entirely white, grey and brown stripes formed a vaguely tiger-like pattern along his sides and his legs. The name also implied that Recca wasn't known for creativity in naming things.

That implication was also entirely correct.

A cheerful "Nyan!" of agreement later, Recca was again ready to pass through the fake wall. And so, a school trunk in one hand and a nekomata cradled in the other, Recca stepped through the portal and entered Platform Nine and Three Quarters.


	9. Chapter 9

Well, the last month or so has been Hell for me... but it looks to be mostly over. I know that the worst of it is, at least.f

To celebrate, I'm posting this chapter.

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Recca Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Chapter Nine

An Appreciation OmakefSequel

By Aleh

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Recca sat in his compartment, idly sipping a cup of tea. Mike had run off to do something or another; Recca had sent a kage bunshin to follow him, but wasn't really worried. The kage bunshin he had searching for Minato was more of a concern.

Recca idly wondered at the joys of being in more than one place at once -- thanks to kage bunshin, he could actually look for his friend and wait for his friend to find _him_ at the same time. He'd had more than enough time to get used to the concept in years since he'd learned the technique, but it managed to amaze him none the less.

Of course, he'd much rather have simply flooded the train with the things as Naruto would have, but Recca lacked his former student's reserves. That's why his bunshin was posting notes with Recca's compartment's location written out in an old ANBU code throughout the train.

Recca just hoped that ten thousand of them would be enough.

Then Recca felt one of his bunshin -- the one he'd sent to watch over Mike -- disperse. "An ofuda?" he rhetorically asked, reviewing the clone's last few memories, "There's a miko with actual _power_ on the train?"

Recca promptly sealed his tea into his glove and pulled out a pen. Using a new kage bunshin to quickly write a note -- "Be right back; gone to stop a crazy shrine maiden from trying to slap spirit-wards on my pet cat." -- Recca moved to exit the compartment.

As he opened the door, however, Recca quickly discovered that he wouldn't have to go far at all. Mike quickly came barreling through the opening entrance, soon followed by an oriental girl dressed as a miko.

Momentarily boggling at what a Japanese priestess was doing wearing her full regalia on a train in London, Recca almost let the black-haired girl bowl him over. Years of combat training served him well, however, and he instinctively blocked her motion, intercepting the ofuda she'd thrown at his companion with a few balls of magatama. Releasing a bit of killing intent, Recca froze her in place with a glare and stepped back into the compartment, casually burning the note that he'd planned to leave for Minato.

"So," he asked in perfect Japanese, "care to explain why you're attacking my cat?"

The miko froze, staring at Recca in utter shock as she saw -- and _felt_ -- what he'd just done. "T... that...," she stuttered before his words seemed to register. Looking up into the reincarnated former shinobi's impatient face and gulping, she visibly steeled her courage. "That is not an ordinary cat!" she exclaimed in the same language. "That is a nekomata!"

Recca blinked. "Well, yeah," he allowed. "That hardly answers the question, though..."

"You know?" she asked incredulously, taking a step back. "But... why..."

"We have an... understanding," the reincarnated former shinobi allowed. "He won't hurt me." Recca then paused. "The same goes for my friends." He then paused again. "Although I will admit that my enemies are fair game."

Stunned, the shrine maiden just stared.

"Anyway, I take it that you're starting Hogwarts?"

"Yes," she stated, her reactions settling into a well-practiced elegance as she allowed her training to take over, "that is the case. Is that true of you as well?"

"Yes," Recca agreed. "Would you like to take a seat? I'm presently waiting for someone and could use the company."

That was true enough -- it just wasn't so that he could pass the time. Whoever sent her had certainly done so for a reason, and talking to her was an excellent opportunity to find out what that was. Just in case, Recca idly flexed his wrist, preparing to release his wand from its holster. As much as he hated to admit it, he hadn't been able to master that flesh-to-trinitrotoluene curse without his wand quite yet.

"I would be honored," the brown-eyed girl returned, gracefully sitting down across from the green-haired boy.

"I am known as Recca Potter," Recca introduced, ignoring Mikan's brief start at his name.

"This one is known as Kurotsuchi Mikan," she politely stated. "Please treat me kindly."

"So," Recca asked, deciding that subtlety would be wasted, "who sent you to Hogwarts and why?"

Mikan started, her twin black pigtails slapping against the sides of her head as it snapped up. "W... what?"

"You are a miko of no small skill for your age, and you are a long way from Japan," Recca simply stated. The _only_ reason why someone like Mikan would be attending Hogwarts was that someone -- someone _important_ -- had sent her.

Mikan nodded in understanding. "This one does not truly understand the reasons," she admitted, "but was asked by the highest earthly authority that could do so. One does not question such a request."

Recca immediately understood what she meant by that. The Emperor had wanted someone at Hogwarts and had chosen a miko? If that was the case... "And the nature of this request?"

"This one was asked to attend Hogwarts and to keep those above informed on general happenings at the school which may be of interest. This one does not truly understand, but such requests are not made lightly."

In other words, the Emperor had wanted eyes and ears at Hogwarts. Recca could deal with that... but it didn't deal with _why_. "You are being pretty open about this," he observed.

"Of the persons at our school, you were the only one who this one's patron mentioned by name. This one was informed that it would not be advisable to display rudeness or attempt to hide truths from you."

Recca smiled somewhat sardonically. "And they didn't tell you enough to really betray anything important, did they?"

"Perhaps," Mikan allowed, gracefully gesturing with one hand. "The advice given this one suggests that those above this one know something that this one does not."

Recca raised an eyebrow. "What advice might that be?"

"This one was advised that it would be beneficial to bring an abundance of popcorn."

Recca laughed at that. "I see. I don't think that I need to be worried, then." Laughing some more, Recca managed to gasp out another sentence between his chortles. "An abundance of popcorn indeed!"

Mikan would have responded, but was preempted by a blond-haired, blue-eyed boy ecstatically jumping into the compartment and suddenly embracing her companion. "It worked!" he shouted in English, firmly hugging the startled engineer of mass destruction. "She's on the train! Recca, it _worked_!"

Recca could only gasp out one word in response. "Minato?"


	10. Chapter 10

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Recca Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Chapter Ten

An Appreciation Omake/Sequel

By Aleh

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The minutes after Recca's reunion with his old friend passed in a whirlwind. The green-haired weapons peddler vaguely remembered excusing himself from the compartment and leaving his baggage in Mike's care.

It wasn't like he was worried about someone stealing his things -- that was what the security system was for. Of course, Recca wouldn't settle for anything but the best, which was why his "security system" involved a liter bottle of sarin, fifty kibakufuda, seals containing several metric tons of explosives, and a few magical backups from a rather interesting book entitled "5001 Absurdly Nasty Magical Traps" written by a retired American brigadier named Xavier Plosive.

Recca figured that it would be enough to keep out a few schoolchildren. The real trouble had been ensuring that the traps wouldn't _also_ get people Recca wanted to keep safe... such as Minato.

The next thing Recca knew, however, he found himself being shoved into another one of the train's compartments. "Here he is," Minato quickly shouted, ducking his head into the compartment... before he suddenly vanished in a burst of familiar yellow light.

Quickly regaining his balance, Recca looked around and briefly surveyed the inhabitants of the room. It only took a moment for him to catch sight of the youngest of them and for his breath to catch. The sight before him was utterly unmistakable.

Sitting next to a fairly nondescript red-haired boy and across from a bushy-haired brunette, a painfully familiar girl stared into his ruby eyes. Straight, black hair, cut to shoulder length, framed her sapphire purple eyes. Her willowy frame was hidden by Hogwarts robes, but they did nothing to conceal her identity.

"Hotaru-chan?" Recca gasped.

"Recca-san?" she returned, quiet desperation laced through her voice.

"Yeah," the former shinobi answered. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

"Yes, it has," Hotaru quietly agreed before suddenly narrowing her eyes. "What happened? What about Naruto-kun? Is he okay? Minato-kun said that you knew more about what that than he did..."

Recca blinked and straightened, staring at where his friend had vanished. "Damnit, Minato!" he shouted at the empty door. "Get your yellow-flashy arse back here! You don't just dump this sort of thing on me!"

Hotaru's eyes narrowed further. "What. Happened?" she demanded, standing up and grabbing Recca by the lapels of his jacket.

As Recca frantically moved to explain, however, the nondescript redhead who had been sitting silently throughout the conversation burst into the distinctive smoke of a transformation releasing. Hotaru released Recca and sat down as if nothing had happened. Across from her, the bushy-haired brunette started giggling. Hotaru soon joined in.

Recca quickly realized he'd been had.

Recca's realization was quickly confirmed as the smoke dissolved, revealing Minato's grinning face. "You don't really think I'd leave you to face Hotaru's wrath on your own, did you?"

"Now, Minato," Hotaru corrected, smiling slightly, "I'm not angry."

Recca and Minato shared a quick glance. "You don't know of what happened after... well..." Recca pointedly glanced to the compartment's other occupant.

"Hermione is my sister," Hotaru stated. "She is aware of our life in Konoha and how mine came to an end."

Recca blinked, taking in the appearance of the latest entrant into his "must protect" list. "My apologies, then," he stated, bowing slightly towards her. "I didn't mean any disrespect; I was simply overwhelmed to see Hotaru again after so long..."

"I understand," the girl answered. "Hotaru has told me quite a bit about you. To tell the truth, she hasn't spoken of much else in the last few weeks."

Recca frowned. "But why? I'd think she'd be more excited to see Minato..."

"Yeah," Minato agreed, "but she didn't know I'd be on the train, did she? It's not like I show up in major Wizarding history books."

Recca nodded in acknowledgement of the point. "I hope you didn't take them at face value," he told the others. "They weren't exactly well-written... and their idea of historical research..." Recca shuddered theatrically at that bit before reaching a hand towards the sole occupant of the compartment who didn't already know him. "I'm Recca Potter, by the way. Pleased to meet you."

"I'm Hermione Granger," she answered, holding out her own hand to meet the red-eyed boy's. "Pleased to meet you."

"Granger?" Recca asked curiously as he firmly shook her hand. "Any relation to the doctor at Great Ormond Street?"

"That would be me," Hotaru deadpanned as Recca released Hermione's hand and moved to sit down. "Now about Naruto-kun..."

The green-haired ex-ninja opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by a familiar voice. "Hotaru-chan," the voice of Kurotsuchi Mikan began in Japanese, trailing off as its owner entered the compartment and saw just what was going on, "you wouldn't believe what ju..."

Recca quickly glanced between the staring miko and his favorite student's reincarnated mother. At seeing the expression on Hotaru's face, the overkill-obsessed weapons dealer promptly reassessed his opinion of the Emperor's eyes-and-ears.

"Hey, Mikan-chan," Hotaru answered in the same language. "I see you've met Recca-kun."

"Y... yes," the black-haired miko stammered out. "W... wait a moment... Recca-_kun_?"

"Just _what_ did you do to scare her this badly, Recca?" Minato chimed in, leaning back in readily apparent amusement.

"It's actually not my fault this time," the green-haired student protested, ignoring Minato's amused snort. "I just talked to her for a bit. Well, that and I did burn one of her spirit wards after she tried to slap it on my pet cat."

Minato and Hotaru blinked in unison before staring at their friend. "There wouldn't happen to be anything... special... about this 'cat' of yours, would there?" Minato asked after a moment.

Recca shrugged. "Mike's a cat. It's not like he's an undead abomination or a cyborg or anything..."

"That... _cat_ is a nekomata!" Mikan protested before suddenly covering her mouth and staring at Recca in horror.

Minato burst into laughter. Recca soon joined in his mirth, chuckling at the expression on the shrine maiden's face. "I'm not that easy to offend, Mikan-chan! Besides, it's not like you said anything that _matters_."

Minato, Hotaru, and Hermione all started chuckling at the look of dumbfounded shock that Mikan wore at that, although Recca's mirth had since subsided.

Much to Recca's surprise, however, Hermione decided to stand up at this point. "My sister and the others really need to talk about some things, Mikan-chan," she stated, walking to Mikan and lightly tugging on her arm. "Shall we leave them alone for a while?"

Recca could only give the bushy-haired girl a grateful smile as she led the person he _least_ wanted to hear the upcoming discussion away from the compartment. "Now where were we?"

Hotaru's left eyebrow twitched slightly. "Naruto-kun," she simply stated.

Nodding his head in acknowledgement, Recca started to spin his tale. He'd barely gotten through the events of the Kyuubi's sealing, however, when they were again interrupted.

"Anything off the cart, dears?" a smiling woman asked, carrying a cart of...

"Ooh, candy!" Recca cheerfully exclaimed. Not only was she carrying sweets, but they were ones he was _unfamiliar with_!

Hotaru's eyebrow twitched irritatedly as she watched Recca promptly pick out multiple examples of each and every item the witch had in stock. Paying the witch a couple of galleons and telling her to keep the change, Recca sat down and started picking through the spread. "Pumpkin pasty?" Recca asked, holding out a treat to the youthful doctor.

"Get. On. With. It," Hotaru declared.

Recca held up a single finger in a hushing motion. A few seconds later, he lowered it. "Right. She should be out of easy hearing range by now."

Hotaru's eyebrows stopped twitching as she cocked her head sideways. "You've changed," she observed.

Both of the male inhabitants of the compartment solemnly nodded. "Yeah," Recca confessed. "A lot's happened. Now... where were we?"

Recca never recieved an answer to his question. Right then, showing truly abominable timing, three boys entered the compartment. Recca instantly recognized the middle one as the pale-faced wanker he'd met at Madam Malkin's. Looking at Recca with far more interest than he'd shown at the robe shop, the boy spoke up. "Is it true? They're saying all down the train that Recca Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, isn't it?"

"Yes," Recca agreed, noting that the two heavy and thickset boys to either side of him were trying to look intimidating. To the trained assassin, however, they merely managed to look pathetic.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and his is Goyle," the pale boy carelessly remarked, having taken note of Recca's gaze. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Recca silently used a genjutsu to communicate his thoughts to Minato.

It wasn't the sign above Draco's head labelling him the "Dragon of Bad Faith" which made Minato chuckle. It was the twin signs above Crabbe and Goyle's heads which labeled them "Catamite #1" and "Catamite #2" which did that.

"Think my name's funny, do you?" Draco responded, completely misunderstanding the source of Minato's mirth. "No need to ask who you are. My father told me all about you. Tell me, Weasley, who did your mother sleep with to-"

Draco's little speech was cut off by Recca's fist firmly impacting his face. Sitting against the far side of he wall and weakly attempted to wipe the blood dripping from his nose with the back of his hand. Looking towards Crabbe and Goyle for help, the young wizard noticed that they had both dropped to their knees, shaking as if they were being crushed by an incredible pressure. He had barely noticed this when the pressure came crashing down on him as well, robbing him of his ability to move... or to hold his bladder.

"Now, then," Recca stated, walking through the door, covered by a pulsating corona of power and quite obviously the source of the pressure holding the three in place, "let me explain a few things."

Before Draco could realize what was going on, the green-haired weapons manufacturer was holding a long, twin-barreled object which the pureblooded wizard lacked the ability to recognize. Had he been more aware of non-magical factors, he would have recognized it as a shotgun. He'd have been wrong in the assumption, however -- the weapon Recca was holding was far, far worse.

After casually pumping the stock with his right hand, Recca held the weapon in a single-handed grip and pointed it directly at the would-be bully. "Now let me explain a few things," he stated. "Minato is my oldest friend. We have known eachother for a very, _very_ long time, and literally been through hell for eachother. I will not -- _cannot_ -- tolerate insults towards his family." As Recca said this, the corona of energy surrounding him began to extend down the twin barrels of the weapon aimed at the pureblooded wizard's head. "I don't _care_ how wealthy or influential your family is -- if you insult my friends again, I _will_ swat you like the pathetic little insect you are. Am I understood?"

Terrified, Draco wanted nothing more than to voice his agreement... or at least to nod his head in affirmation. As much as he tried, however, he couldn't so much as twitch his eyebrows.

Recca twitched his finger and a sphere of swirling white energy, a stark contrast to the blue aura surrounding the firearm-esque weapon in his hand, began to form between its twin barrels of his "shotgun". "I _said_," he stated, his voice all the more terrifying for the fact that he didn't raise his voice even slightly, "_do you understand_?"

Somehow, Draco found the strength to respond. "Yes," he managed to squeak out, his terrified voice soft yet absurdly high-pitched to his ears.

And, in an instant, it was all gone. The aura surrounding the green-haired boy, the feeling of pressure, the ominous weapon that had been aimed at Draco's head... they all vanished as if they had never been.

"Now shoo," Recca stated, making a vaguely dismissing gesture by waving his hands. "Oh, and you might want to change your pants -- you're starting to smell."

Draco started to scramble away, his goons following him. Smiling and waving casually to Mikan, who was staring at him in dumbfounded shock from a position in the hallway, Recca stepped back into the compartment. Sitting down and casually opening a pack of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, he popped a pink jelly bean into his mouth. Smiling at the strawberry-and-cream flavor, he spoke up again. "That should get them to leave us alone for a while. Now where were we?"

Minato sighed. "You were just about to tell her about the council meetings that followed the sealing."

Recca nodded, not really sure how to tell Hotaru what had happened, but not really having a choice. Grabbing a brown-colored candy from his bag of jelly beans, the green-haired boy popped it into his mouth. "Ooh! Cyanide!" Perhaps understandibly, the other inhabitants of the cart kept their distance from the Every Flavor Beans after that.

Fortunately, however, that was the last interruption in the tale. By the time Recca finished his explanation, Hotaru was emotionally exhausted and hanging tightly onto Minato. At times, the story had forced her to tears. At others, her rage had been palpable. Some parts had made her laugh. Others had made her smile.

In the end, however, Hotaru was grateful to Recca... even if she did find several occasions to slap him with a trout. Recca had no idea where she'd gotten it, but was sure of one thing.

It was damned good to see her again.


	11. Chapter 11

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Recca Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Chapter Eleven

An Appreciation Omake/Sequel

By Aleh

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Recca Potter stretched as he stepped onto a small platform and into the cool night air. Ignoring the hustle-and-bustle created by people leaving the train, Recca glanced at where Minato was holding an emotionally exhausted Hotaru against his shoulder. "Take care of her, okay?"

Minato silently nodded and tightened his reassuring grip on his once and future wife. The fact that they _would_ be remarrying was one of many things that had taken less than a second to establish in their little discussion.

Recca casually made his way through the crowd, taking ruthless advantage of his small size relative to many of the older students, and quickly found Hermione. The bushy-haired girl was exiting the train when Recca spotted her, quietly chatting with Mikan as they stepped onto the platform.

"That was a good thing you did," Recca remarked, seeming to appear from nowhere as he stepped up to her side.

"Hotaru is my _sister_," Hermione returned, as if that said everything. To Recca, it did.

"You have my gratitude nonetheless," Recca answered.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over there!"

Recca turned towards where Hagrid was summoning his class. "Well, perhaps we should go. We can talk more later."

Hermione could only nod and follow as the group was led down a narrow pathway. They eventually reached a lake. The sight of a large cstle built atop a mountain on the other side of a lake helped form a scene which would be impressed into the memories of those who saw it for a very long time.

Many of the studens gasped or made expressions of amazement at the vista. Recca was not among them.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called out, gesturing to a series of small vessels at the shore of the lake.

Following Hermione and Mikan as they boarded one of the rickety-seeming (to him, anyway) boats, Recca idly noticed a fourth passenger joining them. Dismissing the pudgy, blond-haired boy as insignificant, he rested a hand on the side of the boat and focused a bit of chakra into its structure.

It wasn't like he couldn't stand on water, but he doubted the same could be said about Hermione... and Mikan drowning would just mean that the Emperor would find some way to send or recruit another spy.

He almost extended his power further and reached into the lake, but felt a strange resistance when he did. Grinning as he realized what that meant, Recca turned towards his fellow passengers only to notice them staring off into space. While Hermione and their fourth passenger were joining the majority of their soon-to-be classmates in staring at the castle, Mikan was instead staring at the lake... and the side of their boat.

Giving up hope of any sort of meaningful conversation as the boats approached the cliffside, Recca leaned back against the side of the watercraft and waited for the fleet to arrive.

"Heads down!" Hagrid yelled as they approached a curtain of ivy on the cliffside.

When Recca noticed that the curtain was rubbing against the tops of the open-ended boats as they passed through the gap in the cliff that the plants vailed, his relaxed smile quickly turned into a frown. With a simple wave of his hand and a blade of wind-chakra, the problem was solved... and a blonde-haired brat that the crimson-eyed boy recognized as Draco Malfoy was covered by the falling pieces of plant-matter.

They travelled through a dark tunnel, eventually reaching a torchlit harbor underneath the castle. Jumping out of the boat and taking a few steps onto the rocky surface, the reincarnated assasssin stretched his arms and glanced at the passageway up to the school proper.

Idly noticing Hagrid handing a toad to the boy who'd shared his boat, Recca took a look at where Minato and Hotaru were disembarking their own vessel. Noticing something, he gave the two lovebirds a wistful grin.

A few moments later, the group walked up a stone staircase. While most crowded around the reasonably-sized oak door at the end of it, three held back, separate from the mass of children.

"I assume you used kage bunshin?"

"Yeah."

"Good work."

Recca meant that last bit. His old friends deserved some time alone together... and a boat-ride across a scenic, moonlit lake was pretty much an ideal setting for such a thing.

Hagrid knocked three times on the castle door, and there was no more time for reminiscing.


	12. Chapter 12

A.N.: I apparently had yet another numbering issue. What was previously listed as Chapter 11 was actually Chapter 12; the actual Chapter 12 is this one. I've moved and adjusted things to reflect this.

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Recca Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Chapter Twelve

An Appreciation Omake/Sequel

By Aleh

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The door promptly swung open, revealing a somewhat tall, black-haired witch in green robes. She wore an expression that Recca supposed would be adequate for intimidating untrained children, but to Recca, whose standards of intimidation were based on the best efforts of trained assassins, only made her look like she desperately needed to get laid.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall."

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

They made their way through the castle, many of the students wide-eyed at the scenery. Recca spent the time catalogueing potential escape routes. They eventually reached a small chamber off the hall. Again, the majority of the students crowded in. Four held back this time, Mikan having noted that Hotaru wasn't crowding in with the others and overcoming her childish curiosity to join her.

After the, in Recca's opinion, overly sexually-deprived professor gave a blatantly rehearsed speech, she took a moment to glance at all some of the more blatant ways in which various kids were less than perfectly groomed. Perfectly aware that the impression he would give wouldn't depend on such trivial things as whether his cloak was fastened perfectly, Recca just shrugged and leaned back against a convenient wall.

Instructing the students to wait until it was time for them to be sorted, Professor McGonagall turned and left the chamber. Things were quiet for a few moments before a few ghosts passed through the back wall of the chamber. Several people reacted in shock, gasping or screaming at the sight.

The ghosts seemed to be arguing. One, dressed like a monk, was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance --"

"My dear Friar, haven't we fiven Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know he's not even really a ghost --"

And with that, the ghost, who was wearing a ruff and tights, noticed the first years... and, specifically, one of their number. "He's here! He's _here_! Run! Run for your afterlives!" he screamed, running through the wall in the opposite direction. The other ghosts, in various states of panic, quickly followed.

Recca blinked. "Way to overreact, eh, Minato?" he asked, taking a moment to pet Mike, who had somehow found his way to Recca's shoulder.

Eyebrow twitching, Hotaru pulled a trout from somewhere and promptly slapped him with it. "It's _your_ fault, Recca!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Recca retorted, staring at the fish and catching it as Hotaru moved to throw it over her shoulder. "By the way, how did you just do that?"

Hotaru frowned. "My accidental magic has apparently manifested as the ability to conjure a fish whenever I want one. I was hoping you might know why."

"You can do this at will?" Recca asked, idly skewering the still-flapping fish on a thin wooden stick and conjuring a flame in his other hand.

"Yes," the black-haired girl agreed, pointedly ignoring the way their classmates were staring.

Recca shrugged his shoulders and concentrated, the flame intensifying. He threw the flame to the ground and let it burn on the stone floor, feeding it with his chakra. After a moment, he nodded his head and held the skewer over his impromptu campfire. "I've heard of weirder," he admitted. "Besides, it suits you -- bringing new life into the world, that is. Have you tried anything other than fish?"

Hotaru idly nodded. "Yes, but-"

Recca's attention was drawn away by Professor McGonagall's return. "What is the meaning of this?" she asked, apparently shocked out of her normal, stern disposition by the sight that greeted her.

Recca blinked and retracted the chakra that was maintaining his cooking fire. Looking around, he idly noticed a swordfish flapping at Hotaru's feet. One spell later, that was no longer a problem. "Sword?" he asked, figuring that was what Hotaru had been trying to demonstrate.

"Long," she confirmed.

Recca nodded. It hadn't exactly been a _small_ swordfish. Wistfully giving the trout-on-a-skewer in his hand a momentary glance, he casually tossed it to his nekomata companion. Mike made quick work of it.

"That better?" he asked the professor.

"Err... yes," she answered, visibly regaining her composture. "Now form a line and follow me."

And thus they walked out of the chamber, across the hall, and into the Great Hall.

Recca was singularly unimpressed by the levitating candles and the blatant waste of precious metals (_really_, gold _plates_ and _cups_?). The ceiling, black and dotted with stars, created the impression of blatant magical showmanship -- all flash and little substance.

Recca's reaction to this was, however, not universally shared. He idly noticed Mikan staring at it and Hermione whispering, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

Idly promising himself to ensure that those sections of it above certain people allowed inclement weather to pass through as well as light at some point, Recca noticed Professor McGonagall put a stool in front of his class. When she proceeded to put a ragged hat of the sort that seemed popular amongst wizards on top of it, Recca just covered his face with his palm and sighed.

For a moment, there was silence... and then the hat began to sing.

"Prank?" Minato whispered to his friend, ignoring the off-tune singing and holding his hands in the characteristic seal for kage bunshin.

"Sur..." Recca began to reply, but trailed off as the hat began the third stanza of its song.

"So try me on and I will..." the hat sang before being lifted off the stool and held several meters off the ground.

"Care to clarify on that?" Recca asked, once again covered by a corona of blue chakra and holding his shotgun-like weapon extended in one hand, aimed at the sphere containing the Sorting Hat.

Several people looked like they wanted to move to stop the homocidal schoolboy. A few even tried despite the paralyzing pressure.

As they moved to do so, however, the pressure around them grew exponentially. Many of them even began to see visions of their own deaths, incredibly gory ends to their lives.

At the head table, an elderly man with a long, grey beard vomited.

Within the golden bubble of energy, the hat shouted in outrage. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Tell me," Recca pleasantly asked, "do you get off on raping children?" A white glow began to build up at the tip of his weapon as he spoke.

That brought the hat up short. "Raping?" it gasped. "How _dare_ you?!"

"_There's nothing hidden in your head the Sorting Hat can't see_," Recca sardonically quoted. "Invasion or alteration of the contents of a person's mind absent a specific court order or clear, legal, and informed consent is defined as a form of rape under the Mental Invasion Act, 1991... and pidgeonholeing children into stereotyped categories based on psychological constructs of dubious validity is most certainly not one of the allowable reasons for a court order."

Recca's delivery of that last speech, a clear, factual statement of the highly condemning information, was only met by further outrage from the hat.

"I'll have you know that I've been sorting students for over a thousand years!"

"The claim that you've been raping children for a thousand years is most decidedly _not_ an argument in favor of sparing you, Hat."

For a moment, it looked like the hat was going to again shout out in indignation. Amazingly, however, it paused in the middle of opening its flap for an outraged retort, visibly glanced at the building ominous glow, and gulped. "That... that law... you said it was passed earlier this year, didn't you?"

"Do you think I _care_ about the legalities of the situation when dealing with rapists?"

Several people throughout the room threw up at the surge in pressure that accompanied that statement. Momentarily concerned, Recca quickly glanced back to the few people present who he actually cared about. Seeing them completely unaffected but making no move to interfere, he turned back and resumed the confrontation. "So, do you have anything to say for yourself?"

The hat slumped, a gesture which looked decidedly odd coming from a pointed hat. "You aren't going to let me maintain any of my mystique, are you?"

Recca raised an eyebrow. "Mystique? In this sort of situation?"

"I suppose not," the hat answered, glancing to the staff table for support only to notice the professors in various states of... decoration. "Most people don't know this, I can't really see into someone's mind unless they give me permission. The best I can really do is to sort of look around the edges and get a feel for their personality and feelings. If they're tricky, I can sort of talk with them, too..."

The glow around the barrels of Recca's weapon quickly faded as the green-haired dealer of mass destruction lowered it to his side. "I see. So you're a living, magic MMPI. Well, just bloody _say_ that next time."

"And what of the mystique of the ceremony or the grand traditions that have defined Hogwarts for the last thousand years?"

"Screw 'em. By the way, you had _better_ not be lying to me, Hat." With those last words, Recca quickly raised his weapon again, making the point _far_ more susinctly than he could have through words.

"I'm not! I'm not!"

"I see. By the way, you have my permission to look into my mind when you sort me. There are things I want you to see."

They would, after all, make the point far more efficiently than anything _else_ Recca could do.

It was with that thought that Recca briefly gestured, sending that hat back to its former resting place on its stool, and moved to resume his position amongst his fellow students, his weapon vanishing in a swirl of what observers could only concieve of as golden darkness. "Well," Recca remarked, releasing the flood of killing intent that had held the entire school paralyzed, "shall we start the ceremony now?"

Of course, he also took the opportunity to sign to Minato that he was all for pranking the Hell out of the ceremony. The fact that he wasn't about to go blowing the Sorting Hat up didn't mean that he wasn't willing to throw in a few harmless pranks.

It was with that thought that both of them exchanged a brief look, smirked, and discreetly placed their hands in a familiar, cross-shaped seal.


	13. Chapter 13

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Recca Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Chapter Thirteen

An Appreciation Omake/Sequel

By Aleh

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A.N.: Thanks to Janana, Typhonis, and Minako for help brainstorming.

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"Abbott, Hannah!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The aftermath of Recca's confrontation with the Sorting Hat had provided the two pranksters with more than enough time to set up their planned prank. In fact, it had given them enough time to play off eachother and take the prank much further than they would have otherwise.

"Baggins, Frodo!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The absurdly short kage bunshin that answered the call was proof of just how far they'd taken things. McGonnagal's stern lecture probably would have been more effective if she had been more understanding of the fact that Recca _didn't_ care about tradition and _did_ care about the possiblity of his best friend's wife being raped. It also would have probably been more intimidating if the teacher had treated him as the trained assassin he was rather than the schoolboy she thought him to be.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Of course, just creating a bunch of kage bunshin wouldn't have been enough on its own. Minato was carefully orchestrating a genjutsu over the entire Great Hall, one which would effectively prevent anyone from noticing the fact that the Hat wasn't really sorting the fake students.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

Through some luck, the "new students" were effectively invisible to the enchanted piece of haberdashery. They'd had a plan in place to handle potential misbehavior from the hat, but were pleasantly surprised to see that it wouldn't be needed.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

Recca, for his part, had taken the liberty of "modifying" the class register in Professor McGonnagal's hands. The fact that the professor hadn't noticed even though she'd been busy yelling at him at the time was a testiment to either Recca's skills as a ninja or McGonnagal's obliviousness. Recca was firmly convinced that it was the latter.

"Brown, Lavender!"

"GRIFFINDOR!"

Mikan, meanwhile, was staring intensely at Recca, an expression of utter shock on her face. Recca figured that her frantic, repeated whispers of "Which one?" had distracted Hermione at a critical moment -- it was the only explanation he could think of for Hotaru's sister not recognizing their impersonation of the main character of the Lord of the Rings trilogy.

Hotaru had joked about how much of a bookworm her sister was, after all...

"Bulstrode, Millicent!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

Recca zoned out for a while, but then it was time for one of the big ones. Recca figured that _someone_ would figure out that a prank was being played... especially since he had lifted the "image" for the transformation from an old Disney movie.

"Emrys, Myrrdin!"

Mutterings broke out throughout the Great Hall... mostly over the "child's" long, grey beard. Recca sighed and nearly slapped his forehead in disappointment.

"RAVENCLAW!"

And then it was time for a real student again.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Of course, not every decision was instant. "Finnigan, Seamus" took nearly a minute.

"GRIFFINDOR!"

Knowing who was next from having read -- and memorized -- the class list Professor McGonnagal was calling names from, Recca started paying serious attention. Giving the Hat a pointed stare -- and enjoying its momentary gulp -- Recca gestured his acceptance of what was coming.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Of course, she had to spoil it by nearly running to the stand and slamming the bloody thing eagerly onto her head.

"GRIFFINDOR!"

Somewhere in the crowd, a red-haired boy groaned. Recca momentarily glared at him, but was quickly distracted by something far more important.

"Granger, Hotaru!"

"GRIFFINDOR!"

Recca gave her a reassuring smile as she sat down next to her sister, quickly recieving a warm acceptance from her table. Knowing Hotaru, he figured that would last until she firmly refused to "play Quidditch" with the rest of her class.

He also figured that fifty cows per bully would be enough if things got out of hand.

"Grey, Gandalf!"

Hermione's eyes bugged out as she finally noticed that something was decidedly... odd... about the ceremony. The grey-haired, long-bearded "child" who was being Sorted was something of a hint.

Of course, the "Hat" took less than a second to decide where to send him.

"RAVENCLAW!"

Recca tuned out the Sorting for a bit, content to wait for their next planned prank.

"Inverse, Lina!"

"Bloody Hell! Getmeoffgetmeoffgetmeoff!" After a moment, "Lina" removed the "Hat", only for it to send her to Ravenclaw and mutter about it being grateful that it wouldn't have to sort anyone like _her_ again.

"Kamen, Gekkou!"

This one had actually one of Minato's. He'd created a "student" who wore a white turban and wrap-around scarf for a mask in conjunction with white-rimmed sunglasses. The yellowish "moon" on top was to help further the reference to an old Japanese television series which he had apparently discovered and felt needed appropriate mocking.

The ensemble looked utterly absurd when taken in conjunction with the Hogwarts uniform.

"GRIFFINDOR!"

Then Recca had to one-up his old friend.

"Kamen, Kekkou!"

"Get some clothes on this INSTANT, young lady!" shouted Professor McGonnagal, outraged at what was revealed when the "student" wearing the red, bunny-eared mask stepped up... and her gait revealed what was... or wasn't... underneath her Hogwarts cloak.

Needless to say, chaos once again reigned throughout the Great Hall.

Recca, however, just fell over, clutching his sides and laughing. Mikan searched through her robes and pulled out a packet of popcorn before sighing.

"You wouldn't happen to have know any cooking charms, would you?" she asked one of her neighbors. "I am afraid that some of my orders are beginning to make sense..."


End file.
